


blood running

by alientiol



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, Heavy Petting, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Vampire!Tsukishima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alientiol/pseuds/alientiol
Summary: “Is this fine?” Tsukishima asks, pressing his fingers into Yamaguchi’s pulse point. He prods it, feeling for the thud of Yamaguchi’s heartbeat, and curls his fingers when he finally finds it.Yamaguchi swallows. His throat stutters, and Tsukishima can feel it rise up and down. “It’s fine, Tsukki,” he says. He’s oddly pliant in Tsukishima’s presence. A towel is placed underneath his head, and his hair is splayed against it.“You sure?” Tsukishima asks, pressing his fingers slightly deeper into Yamaguchi’s throat. His nails aren’t sharpened into points, but if they were, he would be breaking Yamaguchi’s skin by now.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 140





	blood running

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween.

“Is this fine?” Tsukishima asks, pressing his fingers into Yamaguchi’s pulse point. He prods it, feeling for the thud of Yamaguchi’s heartbeat, and curls his fingers when he finally finds it. 

Yamaguchi swallows. His throat stutters, and Tsukishima can feel it rise up and down. “It’s fine, Tsukki,” he says. He’s oddly pliant in Tsukishima’s presence. A towel is placed underneath his head, and his hair is splayed against it. 

“You sure?” Tsukishima asks, pressing his fingers slightly deeper into Yamaguchi’s throat. His nails aren’t sharpened into points, but if they were, he would be breaking Yamaguchi’s skin by now. 

He draws his eyes to the foot of the bed, away from the alluring curve of Yamaguchi’s throat. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds on, letting an uncharacteristic hesitancy leak into his voice. 

Yamaguchi breathes. His lungs flutter under the press of Tsukishima’s forearm, and he presses his lips together. “I said I was fine.” His voice comes out uncharacteristically solid. “If you do it quickly, I’ll get less scared.”

Tsukishima huffs, breaking his spell of nervousness. “That’s not how it works, Yamaguchi,” he chides, beginning to stroke his fingers over Yamaguchi’s pulse point.

“How are you sure about that?” Yamaguchi asks, raising an eyebrow. He has a blood thirsty beast at his throat, but there’s no fear in his eyes. 

“I’m sure of it.” Tsukishima flexes his fingers over Yamaguchi’s neck impatiently. He immediately stops the motion, almost reeling with guilt.

He’s not a blood thirsty beast. Not like his brethren or his family. 

“...Tsukki?” Yamaguchi questions. He places a hand on Tsukishima’s wrist. His neck moves slightly as he turns his head, looking at Tsukishima more curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“What if I don’t stop?” Tsukishima blurts out. There’s an undercurrent of hunger in his thoughts, and it steadily becomes stronger with more time.

Yamaguchi’s fingers skitter over Tsukishima’s wrist. “I’ll stop you,” he reassures, pointing to the wooden stake that lays beside him. At the mention of it, Tsukishima bristles instantly. “We’ve planned this thoroughly. You don’t need to worry.” 

Tsukishima’s brow furrows. “That doesn’t mean it’ll work.” Yamaguchi’s skin thrums under his fingertips, and he presses his fingers deeper into it. 

“Do your plans ever fail?” Yamaguchi challenges, a gleam in his eyes. He grips Tsukishima’s wrist more tightly.

“...No,” Tsukishima admits. “But that doesn’t mean-”

“I can protect myself,” Yamaguchi cuts off. His grip on Tsukishima’s wrist is comforting. “Do you trust me to protect myself?”

Tsukishima meets Yamaguchi’s eyes, and finds himself quailing under the intensity of them. 

Yamaguchi isn’t protecting himself for his own sake. He’s protecting himself in a way that protects Tsukishima from himself, which is selfless, but in an incredibly stupid way.

“I’m not the…” Tsukishima begins, and finally ducks his head from Yamaguchi’s strong gaze. “You don’t need - you can back out, you know,” he forces out. 

“I know I can,” Yamaguchi says firmly. “But you haven’t eaten in weeks, I don’t want you to die, and I happen to have what you need.” He juts his chin out defiantly. “I’m ready, Tsukki. Just get it over with.” 

His voice tremors slightly. A telltale sign of his fear, but his eyes flicker to Tsukishima’s, and manage to communicate his point anyways. 

Tsukishima’s fingers dig into Yamaguchi’s pleasant, warm skin. “Okay,” he says, after feeling Yamaguchi’s heartbeat through his carotid artery. “I will.” 

Yamaguchi wiggles in his position, angling his neck higher. “Okay,” he responds simply, his skin looking bronze and flushing healthily when Tsukishima stops pressing into it.

He looks like a five star meal, in some perverse way. Tsukishima banishes the terrible thought from his head, letting his incisors pop out of his mouth.

Hovering over Yamaguchi, he looks up expectantly, meeting an unwavering gaze of approval.

Yamaguchi nods. He’s biting his lip now.

Tsukishima presses his mouth to the junction between Yamaguchi’s neck and shoulder, finally piercing the thudding carotid artery. Fresh blood blooms in his mouth. It makes him positively salivate, causing his hands to dig into Yamaguchi’s torso, and his head roars with hunger.

_“Oh,”_ Yamaguchi gasps, his hands finding their way into Tsukishima’s head. His fingers weave through Tsukishima’s hair, which settles perfectly between their gaps. “Tsukki-”

A surging feeling overcomes Tsukishima. Blood spills over his lips, underneath his tongue and around his teeth, and makes its way down his throat.

Copper tangs in his mouth. It’s a welcome acidity he hasn’t tasted in ages, and he digs his teeth deeper into the meaty flesh of Yamaguchi’s neck.

Yamaguchi’s hands tighten in Tsukishima’s head. For some reason, it seems like he’s bringing him closer, his chest arching up, his body oddly pliant.

“Tsukki,” he breathes out. It almost sounds...wanton. Wanting? Breathless? 

Tsukishima’s right hand curls around Yamaguchi’s neck. He cranes his head upwards, burrowing into the crook of Yamaguchi’s shoulder. Blood makes his lips slip on skin, which would have disgusted him if he were in a right state of mind.

His lips disconnect from Yamaguchi’s neck regretfully. His chest rises up and down, up and down, and he looks Yamaguchi in the eyes.

“Too much?” he manages to say. His hunger makes way for a slip of conscience, clouding his senses with inklings of guilt.

His tongue darts out to lick up a droplet of blood. Yamaguchi’s eyes follow it, his chest rising like a faltering bellow. 

“I-” Yamaguchi starts, his eyes fixed on Tsukishima’s bloody mouth. “No,” he decides to say. His fingers stutter in Tsukishima’s hair. There’s a strange emotion on his face, one that causes a red flush to go up his shoulders, migrating to the apples of his cheeks. 

“...I can give you more,” he says. His freckles blink in and out of existence, obfuscated by a sheen of vermillion. “If you want.” 

Tsukishima licks the delicious, full bodied blood on his lips. Yamaguchi’s neck stares at him like a meal on a silver platter.

“Only a little more,” he acquiesces, and relief comes over Yamaguchi’s face. “Because you don’t seem out of it.”

Yamaguchi nods. He looks up at the ceiling, which means he’s embarrassed. 

_Embarrassed?_ Tsukishima thinks, almost in bewilderment, until he dips his head back into the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck. The moment he breaks skin again, he sucks at the blood greedily.

Fuck. He needs to control himself, goddamnit, but Yamaguchi starts to writhe underneath him, his body melting into his own. 

Yamaguchi gasps again when Tsukishima’s incisors tease the edge of the bite wound. “Mm,” he says, amidst Tsukishima’s frenzied drinking. It almost sounds like a moan.

“Maybe-” he manages to say, and Tsukishima forces his mind to take control over his instincts. “Maybe you should stop now.” 

He sounds regretful. His hands start to push at Tsukishima’s head, albeit weak.

_Shit,_ Tsukishima thinks. His composure returns back, a steel wall blocking off his instincts from reality. 

He detaches his lips from Yamaguchi’s bronze neck. The blood on his lips is licked off instantly. He uses the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth, smearing red onto the fabric.

Yamaguchi pants underneath him. He seems oddly faraway, his gaze still on Tsukishima, and he makes no effort to cover the bite wound on his neck.

“Are you okay?” Tsukishima asks. Concern breaks through the fog in his mind. He immediately leans in, his lithe form bent in half over Yamaguchi’s.

Yamaguchi’s eyes flick from Tsukishima’s lips to his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he replies, sounding punch drunk. His eyes have a hazy look to them.

Tsukishima tilts his head. The new blood rushes through his body, making each of his movements light.

“You don’t look okay,” he presses. Yamaguchi is now eyeing the corner of his mouth.

Yamaguchi lifts a hand weakly, bringing it to touch the corner of Tsukishima’s lip.

“There’s something there,” he says dazedly. “On your face.” 

“I know.”

Frowning, Yamaguchi pushes his finger into Tsukishima’s lip. “You should clean it up.” His other hand joins in, skittering up Tsukishima’s jaw, cupping it slightly.

“I’ll clean it up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima says, detaching his hands from Yamaguchi’s sides. He begins to swat away Yamaguchi’s prying hands. “I brought towels.”

Yamaguchi brings Tsukishima’s face close to him, showing a surprising amount of strength.

Tsukishima stares dumbly down at him. At his numerous freckles, the perfect plump of his lips, and the little furrow between his brows. 

Leaning away, Tsukishima says, “You should rest.” 

For some reason, Yamaguchi’s eyes widen. He uses his trembling hands to smash Tsukishima’s lips to his, his tongue darting out to lick the errant smudge of blood.

“Mmph-” Tsukishima tries to say, but Yamaguchi’s lips are soft and warm. Under the duress of his instincts, his tongue slips into Yamaguchi’s mouth, which is warm and wet.

Yamaguchi kisses him back desperately. His fingers dig into Tsukishima’s face, his tongue sliding into Tsukishima’s mouth with a type of fervency.

Blood mixes between them - his blood - and he doesn’t seem to mind. From the way he hungrily kisses Tsukishima, his body arching upwards, he seems to be liking it. 

_This is wrong,_ Tsukishima thinks. He finds himself getting lost in the confines of Yamaguchi’s mouth. _I should stop._

Yamaguchi groans from underneath him. He tugs Tsukishima closer. His body is angled in just the right places, and Tsukishima fits into them like a puzzle piece made just for him. 

Conscience butts its way back into Tsukishima’s mind. It forces him to break apart from Yamaguchi, their lips separating with a dark _pop._

“You need rest,” Tsukishima says, unable to control the way his lungs heave. His mind is stupid from all the blood, as if riding some high, and he has to fight the urge to make out with Yamaguchi again. 

Yamaguchi looks back at him. His lips are pretty and pink, a red flush splotching the places Tsukishima touched him. 

There’s a bit of rusty red at the corner of his mouth. His tongue darts out to lick it, and an animalistic urge overcomes Tsukishima - the kind that makes him want to mark and fuck and mark again. 

“I’m fine,” Yamaguchi says. His eyes are half mast. His shirt is rucked up indecently, and he looks utterly debauched on the bed of Tsukishima’s childhood bedroom.

His hands grab the front of Tsukishima’s shirt, hauling him forward. “Do you…” he says, fingers curling on the fabric, “want more?”

He looks so pliant. So willing, so moldable, so perfectly shapeable in Tsukishima’s hands. It causes a rush of pure need to cloud his senses, and he leans in, his inhibitions forgotten.

His conscience interrupts again. “I don’t,” he manages to force out, ignoring the thoughts of _yes, I want to suck you dry, because you’re so keen._ “You need to rest now.” A tinge of worry sours all of the arousal in his gut. “You’ll get hurt, you know.” 

Yamaguchi pouts. “I won’t,” he defends. His eyes are slipping past half mast, and into the heavily lidded territory. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Tsukishima detaches Yamaguchi’s hands from his shirt gently. “I’m not.” 

A gleam appears in Yamaguchi’s eyes. 

“I can make you hungry,” he says. His hair is mussed on the towel he lays on. There’s blood smeared on the side of his neck, still leaking out of the wound Tsukishima has to heal. 

He looks _delicious._ Tsukishima swallows harshly, blocking out his thoughts of wanting to devour Yamaguchi whole, and sets him fully on the bed instead. 

“You can rest first,” he counters. He pushes Yamaguchi’s chest(warm, tan, freckled, thrumming with fresh blood) flush with the bed. 

Yamaguchi’s eyes finally slip shut. 

“Okay, Tsukki,” he mumbles, his previous voraciousness gone. He begins to breathe more steadily. 

Before long, he’s gone to sleep. He’s always been a fast sleeper.

Tsukishima watches him doze peacefully, the wound beginning to scab on his neck, and finds that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.


End file.
